


i once believed love would be burning red (but it’s golden)

by theworldunseen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, a little bit of a bar au, and a little bit of a jury duty au, and honestly a tiny bit of high school?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25811308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theworldunseen/pseuds/theworldunseen
Summary: Jaime didn't want to be at his best friend's girlfriend's birthday party. And then Brienne Tarth walked in.for the 2020 jb fic exchange
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 113
Kudos: 297
Collections: Jaime x Brienne Fic Exchange 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dialects_and_Costumes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dialects_and_Costumes/gifts).



> it was a GIFT to get prompts from Dialects_and_Costumes, aka unadulteratedkr, who I am a huge fan of. I'm going to put the three prompts in the end notes, and hopefully by the end I will have hit all three, even just a little. 
> 
> big shout out to [redacted], who did a lot of hand-holding during the writing of this fic.

Jaime didn’t want to be here. He loved Addam, truly, like a second brother. He even liked Addam’s girlfriend, who was friendly and smart and overall nice. 

But why that meant he had to be at her birthday party, at an overcrowded bar, with a bunch of people he didn’t know, when he could be doing  _ anything else, _ he didn’t know.

He nursed his beer — he didn’t even really like beer — and sat at the bar, nodding at anyone who talked in his direction. He checked the time: Somehow he’d only been there 20 minutes. That wasn’t enough to justify leaving. Addam would give him real shit for being an antisocial jerk, and then he’d use Jaime’s lingering guilt from that to convince him to come to another one of these. It was a vicious cycle he was determined to stop right now. He just had to make it 40 more minutes. Thirty, tops. 

He looked over at Addam, who had his arm wrapped around his girlfriend, Dacey, who was grinning ear to ear. Why couldn’t Jaime find someone like that? Not Dacey in particular — he wasn’t jealous of his friend like that — but someone who would be … nice to him. What a pathetic thought. He brushed it away and took another sip of beer, immediately regretting it.

He turned toward Addam again. He was letting Dacey go so she could get up and greet a new arrival. They were just as tall as Dacey — maybe taller, actually. Something about them rang a bell in Jaime’s memory, but he wasn’t sure why until Dacey let the person go.

It was Brienne Tarth. She was so different from the last time he’d seen her, but also the same. He sat up a little straighter on his stool. 

In high school she’d worn her hair past her shoulders. Now it was short on the sides, with soft waves on the top. It suited her, bringing out her still bright blue eyes. 

She was wearing artfully baggy jeans with a plaid shirt, blue and green stripes. She and Dacey were clearly close, chatting happily with each other and smiling. Brienne handed her a card and Dacey took it happily. Brienne threw her head back laughing, and Jaime could hear it over the din of the bar.

He realized, then, that he’d been watching her for a solid minute, and he turned back to the bar. She probably wouldn’t want to talk to him, if she was planning on having a nice evening. He didn’t blame her. 

Next to him, two of Dacey’s friends were gossiping about some acquaintance, and he vaguely listened, hoping he could get pulled into their conversation. Then he could pass the nebulous line of “putting in an effort” and go the fuck home, where Brienne Tarth couldn’t follow.

He took another sip of his shitty beer. Someone came up on his left side and tried to catch the eye of the bartender, failing. He knew who it was before he turned.

“Brienne Tarth,” he said, turning to her and smiling. He saw the moment she realized who he was, when she pulled back some of the light in her eyes. He didn’t like it. 

“Jaime?” she said, her tone incomprehensible to him. Was she shocked? Outraged? Happy? “What are you doing here?”

“Your friend Dacey is dating my friend Addam.” He tried to sound cheerful, but he wasn’t sure it was working. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I insist.” He raised his hand to get the bartender’s attention, and the man was in front of him in a second. “What do you want?” 

“Really, you don’t—” She sighed, resigned to something. “I’ll take a cider.” 

“Two ciders,” Jaime said, finally giving up on his beer. Cider was much better. The bartender had the drinks in front of them in a moment.

Brienne looked at the bar, the cider, Jaime, the empty bar stool next to Jaime. He watched her choose where to go, mulling over whether it would be too rude to walk away from him. He wanted to tell her she didn’t have to stay with him, but then he thought either she would walk away, or she’d only stay because she felt guilty. Which was worse, he didn’t know.

“Can I sit here?” she asked, gesturing to the empty seat. Jaime nodded. She sat down but didn’t relax. Jaime didn’t feel relaxed either. 

“So,” he said. “How have you been?” Brienne leveled him with a glare so intense, he had to laugh. That only made her narrow her gaze even more. “What?” he asked defensively. “You’re the one who wanted to sit with me.”

“Are you serious?” she asked. “Jaime, come on.”

“Come on, what?” he countered. “I’m catching up with my old high school friend.”

“Friend? You’re going to say we were friends?” It stung, but he knew what she meant.

“We were....friendly acquaintances. We weren’t enemies.” Was he trying to convince her or himself? She took a long sip of cider.

“I don’t think we should talk about this, Jaime.” He knew he should listen to her, but he didn’t.

“Well what else do we have to talk about, Brienne. High school wasn’t so bad, was it?” He knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as it was out of his mouth.

“Are you serious?” she said, really annoyed now. “What do you know about how high school was for me?” Jaime shrugged. Why didn’t he just pick a different topic to discuss when he’d had the chance?

“I mean, you were a great soccer player,” he offered, and she scoffed. He felt defensive now. “You  _ were.” _

Brienne took another swig of her cider, bringing it back down to the bar with a thud. “I  _ was _ a great soccer player,” she repeated. “And all the boys in my grade treated me like absolute shit. And most of the girls. Probably you didn’t notice.”

He didn’t. It wasn’t totally his fault — they were two years apart, and he hadn’t really noticed Brienne at all until his senior year, when they took chemistry together. Still, he looked down at the cider in his hand again.

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “You know, whenever you watch TV shows about high school, it’s always the popular kids who bullied the losers, but in real life the cool kids don’t even know you existed.”

“I knew you existed,” Jaime countered. He  _ did. _ He really fucking did. Brienne raised an eyebrow.

“Well some people decided to make my life miserable.” She spun the bottle on its edge on the bar. “But I guess none of it was important enough to get on your radar.”

Jaime exhaled. “We really only saw each other in class, when you think about it,” he tried. She looked at him again, hard and cold. He panicked that she was going to walk away from him. “You’re right,” he said. He looked back at his bottle, too afraid to meet her eyes again. “I should have noticed. I don’t know what it was like. What do you want to talk about instead?”

He took a long drink from his bottle, hoping that was enough to convince her to not go talk to someone else. 

After a long moment she asked, “Do you still root for the Casterly Lions?” He found himself smirking. He got her.

“Unfortunately. Last year was brutal. You must have been smug with your Tarth Pirates.” He turned to face her then, facing the light of her bright smile.

“I am,” she admitted with — was that a giggle? “That’s what I do now actually; I’m a baseball beat writer.”

“No way! That’s so cool!”

The conversation on neutral ground, they chatted back and forth about baseball, about their teams, about Brienne’s job. She was so smart and funny and she had this one piece of hair that kept falling forward, and she’d quickly brush it behind her ear, and Jaime had a sudden memory of her doing the same thing in high school, when they’d sat next to each other in chemistry, and she’d watch the teacher and he’d watch her. How strange to be here again. How wonderful. 

The 30 more minutes he’d promised he would stay flew by. He got them another round of cider, despite Brienne’s protests. They joked and argued and teased each other. Jaime hadn’t felt like  _ this _ in so long — excited and interested and alive. Every smile he dragged out of her felt like a victory. 

Jaime offered to get another round, but Brienne asked for water instead. So they were polishing off two ice cold glasses when Addam came over, slinging an arm around Jaime’s shoulder.

“Brienne, don’t let your good, kind heart keep you here with this jerk all night.” His fingers dug into Jaime’s shoulder for a second, and for a second Jaime felt sad. Did his best friend think he was a jerk? 

Brienne shrugged. “We went to high school together. We were catching up.”

“High school?” Addam asked, like he’d never heard of it before. “God, I can only imagine what a menace Jaime was in high school.” Jaime tried to shift out from under his arm. 

“We were lab partners,” he told Addam. “Where’s Dacey? Shouldn’t you be in the corner romancing her?” Addam shrugged.

“I wanted to talk to the woman interesting enough to keep Lannister here for hours. I thought he would run away after twenty minutes.” Jaime elbowed him, trying to get out from under his arm. Brienne looked uncomfortable.

“Well now you know,” he said to Addam. 

“I just know a girl has to be pretty special to catch your eye, J. Lan,” Addam added. Jaime narrowed his eyes at his friends, wishing he would go away. Instead, Addam stage whispered to Brienne, “Be gentle with him, alright? You wouldn’t believe it, but he’s very dainty.” 

Jaime shoved him away. 

“Go back to where you came from,” he said, and with a final laugh Addam left them. Jaime looked at Brienne, who looked as pale as a sheet of paper. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said, looking around the bar, anywhere but at Jaime.

“Brienne.”

“Nothing,” she repeated. She took out her wallet. “How much were the ciders?” 

“I told you, I’m covering it. What’s going on?” He put his hand over hers where it was lying on the bar. She wrenched hers free, as if she were burned. 

“I’m going home,” she said, rising from the stool.

“What did I do?” he asked, feeling suddenly helpless. “We were having a good time, weren’t we?” She turned on him quickly.

“Were we?” she asked. “I let you in a little bit, and then your friend comes over to make fun of me—”

“Addam? You thought Addam was making fun of you?” 

She walked away from the bar, stomping past the few patrons who were left, and Jaime hurried to follow her. She stopped at the coat check to get her jacket. 

“Addam wasn’t making fun of you, he was making fun of me!” Jaime tried. But Brienne’s walls were all up.

“An interesting woman? A special girl? Be careful with you because I’m dainty? Come on.” The coat check person gave Brienne her jacket, and she slipped a few bills into the jar before heading for the door. Jaime followed her outside. 

“Really, he was just bothering me. Addam’s a nice guy, he wouldn’t—” She turned on him again, pointing her finger at his chest.

“I’ve been dealing with men like him and like you my whole life, you can’t tell me it didn’t mean what I know it means.”

“But Brienne —”

She lowered her finger and took a deep breath. When she spoke again, her voice was almost eerily calm.

“People have been making fun of me for the way I look and act my whole life. Now, baseball fans do it on Twitter, my coworkers do it behind my back, men on dating apps do it to my face. I know what I know.” Jaime nodded, silent. “And when they don’t make mean comments, it’s because they don’t see me at all, because I don’t rate as beautiful enough to even deserve a place on their radar.”

“You don’t deserve that,” he said, because it was true. How could anyone look through Brienne?

“If I could think of a way to make you understand what it’s like for me, what it’s really like for me, I would. I wish we could switch places — so I could feel how terrible it is for everyone to pay attention to you and think you’re stunningly handsome, and you could see how actually terrible it is when everyone sees right through you, unless they want to make a nasty comment about your height.”

“You think I’m stunningly handsome?” She leveled him with another stare, but it almost seemed fond. Or maybe he was drunk. “No, I get what you’re saying. Really. I’m sorry.” He sighed.

“Yeah. Well.”

“I never saw through you, though,” he said, suddenly bold. 

“Jaime,” she said, a warning.

“Really,” he said, hoping he sounded sure and not intoxicated. “I used to go to all your games.”

“No you didn’t —”

“I  _ did.” _ Why wasn’t she understanding? “When Mr. Dayne made us lab partners? I was ecstatic.”

“Because you knew I was good at chemistry.”

“No! Well, yes, you were, but no. I just wanted to spend time with you. Even if you were mad at me for flipping the numbers when I wrote them down.” He shrugged and smiled at her. She didn’t return it.

“What are you saying?” she asked. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “My life was really shitty back then — not in any special way, just the way being 17 can be really shitty — but knowing I’d see you four days a week… It made me happy. Every time.”

They stood there for a moment. “Well you had a shitty way of showing it,” she said eventually. Jaime laughed.

“Yeah, for sure. I wouldn’t say I was a fucking genius.” He thought of himself at 17, angry and sad and confused. Barely able to understand what he wanted. He looked at her again. Brienne, so tall and brilliant and shining, and he realized that the thing he wanted then is the thing he wanted now. He took a breath. “Give me your number.”

She made a face. “Why?” 

“So tomorrow I can text you, and you can text me back, and it can go back and forth for a week until I ask you out.” She laughed, but it wasn’t her big, fun one. It was sharp in a way he didn’t like. 

“You can’t be serious.” 

“I am serious,” he said. “I like you. I liked you then.”

“You didn’t—”

“I  _ did. _ It doesn’t matter. I want to spend time with you now. Do you...not want to?”

Brienne grimaced, and Jaime felt his stomach drop. Ouch.

“I don’t know if I trust you,” she admitted. 

“I deserve that,” he said. “So let’s try this. I’m going to give you my number, and you can decide if you’ll use it.” He dug in his pocket for a pen and piece of paper.

“I’m not going to use it—”

“You’re going to  _ decide _ if you’re going to use it.” He had a pen, but no paper. “Should I write it on your hand? I’ll do it.” She pulled her phone out.

“I’ll just put it in my phone.” He told it to her, then made her read it out, to make sure she didn’t lose it.

“Just use it,” he said, feeling very close to begging. “I’m very nice. You can ask Dacey, she likes me. Please, just … think about giving me a chance.”

“I gotta go,” she said instead, and if he’d had his jacket, he might have followed her. Instead, he watched her turn the corner, knowing she was never going to text him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fate — or the King's Landing Superior Court System — intervenes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!!! i hope everyone enjoys this chapter!!! especially Dialects_and_Costumes!!! shout out to [redacted] to reading this, and to real life events for inspiring what turned into a pretty big part of this story!

Brienne didn’t text Jaime. She did talk to Dacey about it, eventually, more embarrassed than she wanted to admit about how the night had gone down. Dacey assured her that Jaime probably  _ did _ like her, and he was mostly nice and sweet, and Addam only ever had good things to say about him. 

Brienne was ashamed about snapping at him the way she did, for assuming he and Addam had the worst intentions in mind. Dacey was nice about it, which only made Brienne feel worse.

Dacey said, “You can only come at things with your experience. I mean, it makes sense that you’re defensive. You can’t blame yourself.”

But Brienne did blame herself because the whole thing felt so unfinished. Jaime’s number was in her phone, and she had no real reason to not use it. Jaime had said he liked her. He’d said he’s  _ always _ liked her, which seemed even more unbelievable than the idea of him liking her now. The whole thing made her nervous and confused, so mostly she tried not to think about it, which was impossible. Plus Dacey casually mentioned it every once in a while until she seemingly gave up on Brienne and stopped mentioning it at all.

By then weeks had gone by. Jaime had probably forgotten about the whole incident, forgotten about her. The thought made her sad. But when she was home alone, staring forlornly at her phone, she knew she couldn’t send that first message. She just couldn’t.

And then, as Jaime liked to say when he told the story, fate intervened. Or, the King’s Landing Superior Court System.

Brienne had been called into jury duty over the summer, her very first time. But because of all the traveling she did for her job, she had delayed it until the winter, sending her in bright and early on the first Monday of December.

She’d never had jury duty before. Like any anxious over-achiever, she googled all the details the night before — what entrance to use to the court building, what she was and wasn’t allowed to bring, what was the best time to arrive, what she should wear. She left her apartment with tons of extra time, moved through security more quickly than she expected, and was settled in a seat at the back of the room well before her nine o’clock call time.

She read a novel while she waited, pulled back into the narrative quickly. It was a romance novel, about a woman who simply hated her coworker … because she didn’t yet realize she was in love with him. 

“Tarth.” She recognized that voice. Her stomach swooped, which made her feel silly.

She held her place in the book with her finger and looked up at Jaime Lannister.

He was just as ridiculously handsome as he’d been in October. His hair seemed artfully rumbled, his jaw enhanced by a hint of stubble. His green sweater made his eyes pop. His hands were in his pockets, and he leaned back and smiled at her, lazy and sharp all at once. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked, too surprised to say something normal.

“Good morning to you, too,” he said, smiling a little wider. “I assume we both have jury duty.” 

“What are the odds?” she asked, not sure what emotion was making her feel like she’d swallowed a million butterflies, then washed them down with pop rocks and a Diet Coke. 

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, gesturing to the chair next to her. She almost wanted to say that it was. She had wanted to be  _ prepared _ to see Jaime again. She felt like he was at an advantage, now, catching her off-guard. Though she supposed he was caught off-guard too.

The choice was taken from her by a loud but bored voice over the loudspeaker. “Take your seats now. Juror training will begin in one minute.”

_ Juror training? _ What did that entail? Jaime settled into the chair next to her, his thigh touching hers. 

“Have you had jury duty before?” she whispered. The room had fallen mostly silent. Jaime hit her with his smile again.

“Yeah, right when I turned 18. I made it to selection, but I didn’t get picked.” He gestured to the video screens spread around the room. “They’re going to make us watch a video about our ‘civic duty,’ and then we’re going to sit here for hours waiting to see if they call us.”

“It is our civic duty,” she shot back at him, and she felt him shrug. Just then, a chubby, tired-looking woman appeared at the front of the room, a microphone in her hand.

“Welcome to jury duty,” she said, like she said it every day of her life, which Brienne supposed she did. “I will be your room moderator today. It is essential that you listen to all announcements. Please pay attention to this important video about jury service.” She sat down. A moment later, the video played.

It was patently absurd. Lots of dramatic, sweeping shots of the courthouse and judges in their robes, vaguely patriotic music, words like “JUSTICE” and “TRUTH” splashed over images of the Westeros flag. Brienne groaned and Jaime laughed.

“You don’t like justice and truth, Tarth?” he asked. 

“I do, I just don’t think our criminal justice system is going to bring us even slightly close to it,” she whispered back. Someone shushed them.

“If they call you in for a jury, make sure you tell them that. Then you can go home.” He’d leaned close, his lips almost touching her ear. She tried not to shiver. 

“That’s exactly why I  _ can’t _ tell them,” she said as quietly as she could. “Because people who don’t believe in the system should also be represented.” For a second, he put his hand on her knee and squeezed, then removed it. This was why Jaime was  _ dangerous. _ This was why she hadn’t texted him. She felt on fire.

The video ended and the bored woman with the microphone told them to wait until their numbers were called. Brienne took out her novel again. Jaime seemed to have not brought any reading material. He played with his phone for a few moments, then put it away and drummed his fingers on his thigh. Brienne kept waiting for him to say something, but he didn’t. Maybe because she was reading a book. Maybe because of last time.

She held her place with her finger again. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t text you,” she whispered. He turned to face her, a look of genuine surprise on his face.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He crossed his arms, as if he was trying to make himself a little smaller. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you today if you don’t—”

She put a hand on his knee so he couldn’t stand up. “You’re not bothering me. I’m...not mad that we ran into each other.” Jaime looked surprised at that, too.

“Well I’m glad to hear it,” he said after a moment. “Do you want coffee? I think I walked past a vending machine.” 

Brienne made a face at the idea of such coffee, and Jaime barked a laugh. “OK, no coffee. Be right back.”

She watched him walk away, his rather nice butt perfectly complemented by his navy khakis. She looked around and noticed she was not the only one watching him walk away.  _ Of course not.  _

This is what she’d been trying to make Jaime understand at Dacey’s birthday party. They lived on different planets. On Jaime’s, people looked at you, wanted to know you, wanted you. On Brienne’s, total indifference was almost preferred, because catching someone’s eye usually meant embarrassment or pain. 

She spotted Jaime walking back toward her a few moments later, juggling two water bottles and what appeared to be an assortment of snacks. When he made eye contact with her, his face lit up. 

Maybe total indifference wasn’t preferred. Maybe. 

He sat back in his seat, handing her a water bottle. “I got everything that seemed breakfast appropriate.” In his arms were granola bars, pop tarts, a thing of cereal, what looked like a scone, and a chocolate muffin. Brienne took the muffin.

“Why did you get so much for two people?” she asked as she opened it, silently offering him a piece. He took it and popped it in his mouth.

“I didn’t know what you liked.” Jaime opened the pop tarts. “And I figured we could give the leftovers to people around us to make friends.”

“No one wants to make friends at jury duty, Jaime.”

“That’s a very negative attitude, Brienne.” He popped a piece of Pop Tart into his mouth. “Want a piece?” he asked, holding it out for her. She took a piece. Strawberry frosted, her favorite. 

“My dad was a terrible cook,” she said. “So Pop Tarts for breakfast was the gold standard in my house.” 

“The gold standard? What was the bottom, then?” Brienne considered it.

“Pop Tarts that had been toasted were the best. Then cold ones. Then frozen waffles, toasted, then microwaved. Then all the cereals. The worst breakfast option were these disgusting granola bars he would buy, they tasted like sawdust.”

Jaime laughed. “Covered all your food groups, there.” He took another piece of her muffin.

“Sorry we didn’t have private chefs like some people,” she said with a smile. 

“If we didn’t, I don’t think my dad would have remembered we were even supposed to have breakfast, even the bad granola bars. I would’ve had to come to your house to steal them.” 

Brienne laughed and Jaime admitted that his dad had calmed down and softened up in the last couple years, a fact he attributed to his brother and sister giving him grandchildren. Jaime’s story about his father throwing his niece a “pretty princess” birthday party was interrupted by the first announcement for jurors. 

Brienne found herself hoping that neither of them would be called. She wanted to stay here longer with Jaime, in this place where they were themselves and they weren’t, where she didn’t have to decide if she wanted to see him again, to think about what it would mean if she did. The pressure was off; just two people thrown together by the Kings Landing Superior Court System. 

When the last number was called, and neither of them had chosen, she thought they both sighed in relief. She just needed a little more time.

They gave out the rest of their breakfast snacks to the people around them — well, mostly Jaime, but he told an old lady sitting not that far from him, “I bought too many snacks for me and my friend, do you want one?”

After she’d taken the other package of pop tarts, she’d looked at the two of them and said, “You make a cute couple,” the way only old ladies can. Jaime’s back was to Brienne, so she couldn’t really see his reaction. She smiled at the old woman, and Jaime didn’t correct the mistake, either. Brienne tried not to read into it.

Shortly after all their snacks were gone, the room moderator called another two groups of jurors. Brienne and Jaime were spared again. 

“What type of trial would you want to be on?” he asked her. “Murder seems too intense.”

“Corruption,” Brienne said. “Bankers stealing money from the people who use them.” Jaime nods.

“Feel like that would be in the news, we would have seen it,” he said so thoughtfully that Brienne laughed.

“Do you even read the news?” she asked, and he looked quite indignant.

“Just because I’m pretty doesn’t mean I’m dumb,” he said. It should have been insufferable but he was just so damn charming. The brat. 

“Well maybe you should’ve brought a newspaper with you,” she suggested. “Then I could finish my book.” 

He lifted his hands up in surrender. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, which wasn’t actually what she wanted. Nonetheless, she returned to her book.

But now that all their snacks were gone, Jaime was bored. He didn’t say it out loud, but he kept shaking his knee, which was very distracting, especially since his thigh kept brushing against Brienne’s. 

After she read the same paragraph for a fourth or fifth time, she admitted defeat. She put her book away in her bag, then pulled out a notebook and two pens. While she grabbed them, they called more jurors, but she and Jaime were still excluded. The old woman sitting near them  _ was _ called, and she waved at them before walking away. They both waved back. 

Brienne opened her notebook to a blank page and quickly drew a grid. She poked Jaime with the extra pen until he took it. 

“Tic Tac Toe?” 

He made the first X and so began what ended up being 21 very intense games of Tic Tac Toe. Jaime won the first two, so Brienne demanded she got to be X for the next two games, which she won handily. Then they went back and forth, pulling the notebook between them. Brienne ripped through a page when she triumphantly won game seven, and Jaime whooped so loudly when he was the victor of game 12 that a man three seats away shushed them. They only stopped when juror numbers were called again. Brienne clutched her pen, willing neither of them to be selected. She got her wish.

Meanwhile, Jaime had turned the notebook to another page and was drawing something she couldn’t make out. When he pulled away, she saw he’d set up a game of hangman. The sentence he’d written was thirteen spaces long. 

“That’s way too many blanks,” she argued.

“And I’m dyslexic, so I might have fucked it up,” he admitted. Brienne remembered that from chemistry class; she’d had to write down all the numbers when they did lab experiments, lest Jaime accidentally flip them.

When Brienne’s first three guesses — E, I and A — were all correct, Jaime demanded she stop guessing vowels. They squabbled for a moment about whether he was allowed to change the rules halfway through, until they got shushed again and Brienne’s embarrassment made her admit defeat. 

R was a win, as was S and N. Jaime tried to ban more letters from guessing, but Brienne wouldn’t let him. A wrong guess of G led to Jaime happily drawing in the head of the man, complete with a little mustache and a frown. Brienne laughed.

“Well he’s not happy about dying,” Jaime said, before letting Brienne guess again. She made good progress, but got the torso and one leg when she guessed P and C. 

“Getting close, Tarth. You can’t let this innocent man die.” 

“How do I know he’s innocent? Maybe he shot up the saloon.”

“The saloon? Do all hangman games take place in the wild west?” Brienne nodded.

“Yeah, clearly? Where else are their old timey gallows?” So then they fought about that for a few minutes, with Brienne arguing that any other situation with a hangman was too depressing to be a children’s game. Jaime didn’t buy that argument, and also brought up the last scene of  _ Pirates of Caribbean,  _ which just turned into a discussion of that movie and if it was still any good. Brienne noticed that many of the people who had been sitting around them had slowly moved away, and she didn’t totally blame them. 

She took the notebook back from Jaime, studying the letters to finally figure out the answer. Just then, the room moderator asked more jurors to come to the front. As the last number was called — miraculously neither Brienne’s nor Jaime’s — she figured out what the blank spaces spelled:

_ I hate jury duty, but it’s not so terrible when I’m with you.  _

—

At one, they were given an hour for lunch. They were warned that they needed to be through security and back in their seats by two, so they ought to plan accordingly. 

When Brienne and Jaime hit the sidewalk outside the courthouse, they stood for a moment, awkward now in the light of day.

“It was colder this morning,” Jaime said as he took off his knit cap, which perfectly rumpled his hair. Brienne nodded. Jaime nodded back. “Well, I guess I’ll see you in an hour—” He started to turn, but Brienne put a hand on his wrist.

“I read about a really good dumpling place around here, come on.” He smirked. 

“So you’re saying you want to eat lunch with me?” She hated him.

“Against my better instincts.” But she knew he knew she was lying.

The dumplings were  _ excellent, _ excellent enough that Jaime only sort of teased her for looking up good lunch places near the courthouse the night before.

“If I hadn't been prepared, you’d be eating a half warm hot dog from the guy on the corner!” she said when she defended herself. While she was gesticulating with her chopsticks, he stole one of her spicy pork dumplings. She grabbed one of his spinach ones for revenge. She noticed that he was checking his phone more now than he’d been during their interminable jury room wait. 

“Work?” she asked, hoping it wasn’t too invasive. 

“Yeah just some bullshit that doesn’t matter.” He put his phone in his pocket and gave Brienne his full attention again.

“I don’t even know what your job is,” she admitted. He shrugged.

“Not that interesting, to be honest. SEO marketing. We try to trick people into clicking on certain products or websites when they google things.” He ate his last dumpling.

“They made us take an SEO seminar at work. Two hours for some guy to tell me that I should make sure all the players and teams’ names are in my stories.” Jaime laughed. 

“Yeah we do a lot of training stuff like that, but I hope ours are more successful.” He shrugged. “Honestly, it’s fine. It pays the bills, and I usually don’t have to think about it once I leave the office. I think the whole idea of a ‘dream job’ is overrated. I don’t dream about working, I dream about having a family and learning to bake and seeing my nieces and nephews whenever I want.” He sat back, sheepish — well, sheepish for Jaime. “Sorry, I’m rambling. And of course, you have  _ your _ dream job.”

Now it was Brienne’s turn to shrug. “Yeah, but it’s not always...perfect.” And she found herself detailing some of it for Jaime: how long it took to get the players to respect her, the handful of times men had told her she had no right in a locker room at all, the condescending comments from the other reporters, her old editor who told her killed any story that even touched on women’s sports.

“And then,” she said, now that she was really worked up, “My new editor told me that WSPN had asked him which reporters he thought would be good for a little gig on a new commentary show. And he put up my name, and they told him I didn’t have a face for TV.”

“Motherfuckers,” Jaime said, as if he was going to punch them in the face right now.

“Thank you,” she said. She checked the time. “We better hurry back.”

Once they were through security — Jaime made so many jokes while going through the metal detector that the guards pulled him aside for “additional screening” — they thankfully reclaimed their seats at the back of the room. More people got called at two on the dot, but not Jaime and Brienne. 

They spent another hour chatting, but by three, their energy was lagging. Jaime went and bought them both sodas from the vending machine. 

“I think we’re going to get screwed, Tarth,” he said when he sat back down. 

“Why’s that, Lannister?” 

“Well, presumably they haven’t sent us home yet because they expect they’ll need us for something. But there are only two hours left. Which means if they need us for something, we’re definitely coming back here tomorrow.”

Brienne groaned. One day of this was fine — almost fun, even, with Jaime by her side. No, actually fun with Jaime. But two days? It was too much. 

Not too long after, while she and Jaime were playing a very bad game of Pictionary, Brienne’s phone vibrated. A text

“Holy shit,” Brienne said, loud enough that the people around them shushed them for the millionth time _. _ She never got in trouble like this when she was on her own.

“What’s the matter?” Jaime asked. She leaned her head close to his so no one could overhear.

“I just got a text from Brynden Tully.” Jaime nodded, clearly aware that she was referring to the universally beloved all-star shortstop. “He told me, off the record, that he’s decided he’s going to retire from the Wolverines, and he wants to break the news in an interview with me.”

“Holy shit,” Jaime whispered back.

“Yeah,” Brienne said. “But he wants to talk about it on the phone  _ right now.” _ She looked at the front of the room. “I don’t know if I’ll get called while I’m outside talking to him.” This was a once in a lifetime opportunity for Brienne. This would be the biggest story in sports for the rest of the week, if not the rest of the year. And  _ she _ would be the one breaking it. Maybe Brynden could wait a few hours, but maybe in those hours he would call someone else and give the scoop to them — no, probably to  _ him. _ Any one of her male colleagues. God, she wanted this so bad.

She opened her mouth to explain it to Jaime, but he was already nodding.

“OK,” he said. “You go, and I’ll cause a diversion.”

“Jaime,” she said, laughing a little. “This isn’t a John Hughes movie.” He pouted.

“So you’re saying I can’t do it?” he asked. 

“If anyone can do it, it’s you,” she conceded, and he gave her his brightest, boldest smile and she thanked all the jury duty gods for giving her Jaime today. “OK,” she said. “I’m gonna sprint outside. He probably just wants to confirm an interview for later tonight, so it shouldn’t take too long.”

Jaime saluted her. “Godspeed.”

They both rose at the same time, Brienne walking as fast as she could toward the escalator without drawing attention to herself. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jaime, slowly walking up to the woman in the front of the room, who had seemed so very bored all day. That was going to change now, at least. 

Once Brienne was in the lobby, she checked with the security guard that it was OK for her to take a quick phone call before running back up to jury duty. Thankfully, the guard said it was fine, and she was out the door before she remembered that she didn’t have a coat. More than a little cold, she dialed Brynden. 

“Brynden? Hi, it’s Brienne Tarth. How are you? Thank you for reaching out to me, I’m so grateful you trust me with your story. I just — I’m actually at jury duty right now? It should wrap up by five, at the latest. Could I give you a call at say, 5:30, to get this done? Perfect, thank you! Yeah, jury duty is pretty terrible, but I actually ran into a friend, so it hasn’t been so bad. OK, I’ll call you then. Thank you, thank you.”

When Brynden hung up, she practically cheered. But she didn’t have time to celebrate, because she had  _ no idea _ what Jaime was doing inside. She ran back in, thanking the security guard before taking the escalator two steps at a time. At the top, she turned toward the front desk, where Jaime was chatting up the room moderator. He was practically draping himself across the desk, and, as Brienne predicted, the woman seemed very happy to be chatting. When Jaime saw Brienne reappear, he stood up straighter. She gave him a tiny thumbs up before reclaiming their seats. A few moments later, Jaime joined her.

“I was afraid you were going to be running around naked by the time I got back,” she admitted. 

“For you? I would have.” Brienne’s heart did that unhelpful swoony thing again. Goddammit. “How did it go?” he asked. 

“I’m interviewing him at 5:30. You really were a lifesaver, Jaime, I can’t thank you enough.” He seemed shy in the face of her praise, which he tried to brush off with the wave of a hand. It made her like him more. 

Jury duty  _ was _ going to end. There were no guarantees they’d be called back tomorrow, or together. There were no guarantees she was going to see him again.

“Jaime, I really am sorry I didn’t text you.”

“You—” She put a hand on his thigh and shook her head.

“I thought about it for a while, and by the time I decided that I wanted to, it felt like too much time had passed. I figured...you wouldn’t want to hear from me.” She looked away from him then, self conscious. He touched her hand for a second.

“Literally never true.” She took out her phone. Jaime’s vibrated. 

“Now you have my number. I assume you’ll text me all day long.” 

“I probably will.” He touched her hand again, where it was sitting on the arm rest. She let their fingers intertwine. She turned to face him; he was  _ so close, _ his lips not far from hers at all, but she couldn’t kiss him in a jury room, could —

The room moderator called numbers again. Including both of theirs.

“Shit,” they said in unison, grabbing all their things as quickly as possible. Jaime somehow ended up with her scarf around his neck. 

They were shepherded through a door and into another, smaller room. It reminded Brienne of a high school classroom — it even had tiny desks. She sat at the back, again, and Jaime sat next to her. 

The person in charge stood at the desk at the front of the room with a pile of papers in their hand. Everyone watched them in silence. 

“Thank you for coming to jury duty. We appreciate that you’ve had a long day. I can tell you that everyone at the King’s Landing Superior Court is thankful that you came in today to fulfill your civic duty.”

The crowd of 20 sat on the edges of their seats.

“I can also tell you that you’re free to go home. Each of you will receive one of these letters” — they gestured to the pile in their hand — “that will certify that you completed jury duty and you cannot be called again for at least two years from today’s date. Please line up and I’ll distribute the letters.” 

Everyone lined up, a current of happiness in the air. Jaime and Brienne ended up at the back of the line, both of them smiling at each other. They got their letters and walked down the hallway together, toward the escalator.

Once they were outside again, they stopped on the sidewalk. Brienne wasn’t sure what to say, and she didn’t think Jaime did, either.

“Well,” he tried.

“I had a really nice day,” she said. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Despite the circumstances,” Jaime added. The wind played with the front of his hair, where it was long and brushed his forehead.

“No,” she said as she shook her head. “Even by regular standards I had a really nice day.” It might have been the cold, but she thought Jaime was blushing. 

“I would ask you if you wanted to get dinner, but you probably need a break.” Jaime was shifting from foot to foot, his hands in his pockets. She realized he was still wearing her scarf. 

“I would say yes if I didn’t have to go do this interview.” Jaime slapped his forehead. 

“Of course, you should head out.” She didn’t. She took a swift step toward him and kissed his cheek, then just as quickly pulled away. The memory of his stubble stayed on her lips. 

“Alright, I really need to go now,” she said. Jaime seemed a little dumb struck. “But text me,” she said, mining the action. 

And then she walked away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne go on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we did it!!!! huge huge shout out to [redacted] for giving this a read over. i feel this this chapter makes my identity obvious, but maybe i am wrong! would love to hear guesses in the comments.
> 
> things get spicy now!!!

_Jaime: This interview is amazing._

_Jaime: Honestly, I cried. What he said about his wife! And the stuff about never being MVP, that was so cool. And what you wrote about his knee injury, damn._

_Jaime: You did an incredible job. I hope you win a Selmy. I’ll make you your own if you don’t._

Brienne checked her phone at lunch time on Tuesday to find a barrage of texts from Jaime. It had been a whirlwind 24 hours. Not even, really. 20 hours. 

On the way home from jury duty, Brienne had called her editor, Randyll Tarly, to tell him about the scoop and to make sure he saved space in the next day’s newspaper for the news. Tarly freaked out, both excited and nervous. Brienne felt the same. But it also felt like he was … a little too surprised that she’d landed such a big interview, but she tried not to read into it. She worked hard. She was a good writer. Obviously Brynden Tully respected her. She deserved all of this. And she would nail it.

She kept that confident attitude as she sat down at her desk to interview Brynden over the phone. He gave her 30 minutes, which felt like an eternity compared to the short chats they usually had inside the locker room. When they finally wrapped up, she used her notes to transcribe the most important quotes as quickly as possible, all the while trying to think about how she wanted to organize the piece. Normally, she’d have asked for others in the organization for their comments, but she didn’t want to risk a leak of the news. She’d do a follow up story the next day of their reactions. 

Next, she got to the work of writing. Somewhat miraculously, she had a decent first draft by 10 p.m. She made herself a sandwich while her editor read it, then responded to his edits while she ate a tub of ice cream. She had to argue with him to keep the stuff about Brynden’s wife, and it was vindicating that Jaime had liked it so much. Her instincts had been right.

When the story was finalized, she finally crashed in her bed for a little sleep. In the morning, she guzzled coffee before doing a call-in with a sports radio show that wanted to talk to her about the scoop. Then, she got to work on a follow-up about his former teammates’ reactions. She only stopped for lunch when that story was with her editor. And that’s when she let herself answer Jaime’s texts.

_Brienne: Thank you!! I’m exhausted, but I’m glad it came out so well._

Jaime responded right away.

_Jaime: You did an amazing job. Did I say that already? I want to print it out and frame it._

Brienne laughed. She was just so _fond_ of him. How had that happened?

_Brienne: I think my dad is framing his copy. You can share tips._

The three dots came up that said Jaime was typing. She ate some more of her noodles while she waited. 

_Jaime: I was going to ask you if I could treat you to dinner tonight, but since you’re so tired, I feel like I should make it more of an open invitation. I want to take you out to dinner. Whenever you want._

Brienne bit her lip, considering. She wanted to say yes. Yesterday she would have said yes. But today? She typed slowly.

_Brienne: Is it a friendly dinner? Or is it…_

The ellipsis were cowardly, but Jaime was typing again.

_Jaime: Whichever you want._

He was letting her say it. She appreciated that, but she also kind of wished he would just decide it himself. She took a breath. Time to be brave.

_Brienne: I want it to be a date._

She clicked out of the chat as soon as she said it, checking her texts from her friends and colleagues who had read the story. Dacey sent her one million emojis that made Brienne smile. As she was tapping out a response, she saw the notification that Jaime had responded. She sent her text to Dacey, then turned back to her computer, where her editor had finished editing her story. Jaime’s text could wait. Jaime could wait.

She lasted three minutes before she opened the message.

_Jaime: OK. Let me know when’s best for you._

—

Jaime found Brienne sitting on a bench outside the Aegon’s Hill metro station on Saturday afternoon. She was wearing the same coat she’d had on Monday, navy blue with tortoise buttons. She’d found another scarf, this one green, with a matching knit hat. She was reading her novel, biting on her lip. 

“Hey,” he half-said, half-shouted, when he figured he was in earshot. It was kind of crowded, with the Christmas market set up at the top of the hill, and revelers walking around with cups of hot chocolate and giant pretzels. Miraculously, Brienne heard him, looking up with a big, goofy smile on her face. He knew he was lucky to get her like this, open and excited.

After they’d set their date Tuesday afternoon, they’d texted through the rest of the week. Addam warned him not to overdo it and scare her off, and Jaime knew that was good advice. But he liked her. After spending a day with her on Monday, he improbably found himself missing her. He had so many things he wanted to talk to her about, and, given her quick responses, it seemed she might feel the same about him. At least a little.

Jaime’s one concern was that their past would stay hanging over them, cutting off the chance of something good before they could even give it a try. On Thursday, after a lot of consideration and three failed drafts, he texted her. He still didn’t think what he came up with was any good, but, as his brother would say, he needed to get it out of his fucking head.

_Jaime: After Dacey’s party in October I thought a lot about what you said. About high school and everything. I feel so badly that people treated you like that, and that I didn’t notice and didn’t do anything about it. You didn’t deserve it. Nobody would. I feel so bad that I treated other people like that. At first I felt defensive, you know. Like I was just a kid who didn’t know better. But I did know better. You knew better._

_Jaime: So before we give this a try I wanted to really apologize. I know that doesn’t make any of it OK, but I wanted to say it anyway._

He wanted to add that he understood if she didn’t want to go out with him, but decided not to. It seemed condescending: Brienne knew their history. She had made her choice anyway. Also, he didn’t want to give her an opportunity to back out. 

It had taken two hours for him to get Brienne’s response. It surprised him.

_Brienne: Did you really have a crush on me in high school, or was that just a line?_

There she was, always catching him off guard.

_Jaime: I think if someone had asked me at the time, I would have said no. But in retrospect I did. I had a sex dream about you once._

Was that too much? She wrote back right away.

_Brienne: Now you’re lying._

_Jaime: You wound me! I did and the next day I was so embarrassed I skipped chemistry because I thought you’d be able to read my mind. You saw me at lunch and scolded me for missing Dayne’s lecture, but then you let me borrow your notes._

_Brienne: I actually remember that. Anyway, I appreciate you addressing it now. I only sort of knew teenage Jaime, but I don’t mind adult Jaime so far._

And that was all she had to say on the subject.

By the time Jaime reached the bench where she was waiting, Brienne’s book was put away in her bag, and she was standing. “Hi,” she said, all adorable, her cheeks a little pink from the wind. 

“Hi,” he repeated. He wanted to kiss her now. What if he fucked up this date and never got another chance? But she stepped away before he had decided to do it, and he missed his chance. 

“Where are we headed?” she asked, and he pointed across the street. He led her to a small place he and his brother liked to go, where the quesadillas were super cheesy and the sangria was cheap. He and Brienne squeezed themselves into a booth in the corner, their knees touching under the table. They smiled at each other over the small candle in the center of the table. 

“I’m really glad you said yes to this,” Jaime said, happy and hopeful. 

“Well technically I said yes to dinner,” she pointed out. “This is lunch.” Jaime brushed his knee across hers.

“Well if we play our cards right, we could have dinner together tonight, too. And dessert.” He raised one eyebrow. He thought Brienne would be a little flustered at his innuendo.

Instead, she leaned over the table and added, “And breakfast tomorrow?” Jaime smiled, a little flustered himself, now. Her ankle found his under the table.

They were still grinning at each other, like two teenagers, when the waitress came over to take their orders.

—

Brienne was conscious of the fact that they probably lingered at the table too long, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel that bad. It was possibly the effect of the sangria they had drank, which had more resembled fruit punch than wine. When they were done, they exited onto the chilly King’s Landing street, arm in arm. 

“Where to?” Jaime asked. 

“Do you want to walk around the holiday market?” she asked. Jaime agreed, and they set off toward Aegon’s Hill, climbing the steps until they reached the crowded market.

The many people in attendance were just an excuse to cozy up further to Jaime, and he didn’t seem to mind. He was almost as tall as she was, so they were close to ear-to-ear as they walked, looking at the different stands.

Jaime was something like a kid in a candy store once he really started looking at all the different things on offer. “Has this always been here?” he asked, awestruck as he looked at booths that sold stockings and ornaments and menorahs and artisan hot chocolate mix. Brienne laughed.

“My dad used to take me every year. You’ve really never been?”

“Really,” he echoed, before dragging her to a booth that made intricate ballerina ornaments with brilliant, sparkling skirts. He bought some for his nieces, and Brienne was tempted to get one for herself, but refrained. She could always come back if she changed her mind. 

At another stand, he got his nephews a glittery Santa Claus. Then he got a pack of Christmas cards from a very cheery illustrator, a box of gingerbread cookies to share at the office, and a home brewing kit for his brother. Brienne made fun of him for being a shopaholic, but then he helped her pick out a thick blue sweater for her dad and a huge book of recipes for her dad’s boyfriend and she had to admit Jaime had a good eye for presents. Her items fit in her bag, but Jaime was laden with shopping bags by the time they were done.

Around sunset, she bought them both hot chocolate and they sat on a bench, listening to the Christmas carols being piped from the speakers and watching the people go by. They sat closer together than they strictly needed to, but neither moved away. She put her free hand on his thigh. He put his around her waist. She felt bubbly and warm, like she was on the precipice of something really good.

“Are you having fun?” she asked him, their faces very close together. His green eyes were shining bright, maybe a reflection of all the twinkle lights around them.

“So much,” he said with a little smirk. “Are you?” She squeezed his thigh.

“A lot.” She turned away to take another sip of hot chocolate. Jaime nuzzled her ear with his nose and she shivered.

“Are you cold?” he asked, his hand tightening around her waist. She couldn’t quite feel his fingers through her coat and sweater, but she wanted to. She turned again, so they were nose to nose. Jaime inhaled. 

“I’m hot,” she said. They stared at each other for a moment and then both laughed. “Sorry,” she said, in between giggles, “I was trying to be sexy.” 

“You don’t have to try,” Jaime mumbled. He had no issues being incredibly appealing, at least. “If you don’t know how badly I want you right now, I’m doing something very wrong.” Brienne had had enough. She dropped her now empty cup on to the bench and brought her hands to Jaime’s cheeks. 

“I know,” she said, and then she closed her eyes and kissed him. His lips and nose were cold, but the inside of his mouth was warm, warm, warm. She chased that feeling, deepening the kiss as her hands came around the back of his neck. She wished she’d taken off her gloves so she could feel his hair, his skin. 

Jaime’s other hand came around her waist, pulling her close. But they could never be close enough, not bundled up against the cold. Jaime traced her bottom lip with his tongue, languid and soft. The fire in Brienne only burned brighter. 

She pulled away, drawing a small whine from Jaime.

“Did you say you lived nearby?”

Jaime laughed, throwing his head back, and she used the opportunity to plant a kiss where his jaw and neck met. 

“We can walk,” he ground out. “But you’ll have to stop doing that if we’re going to make it there.”

It took a few moments for Jaime to gather his bags in a way that still left his hand free for holding Brienne’s. She offered to carry one, but he wouldn’t hear it. 

“They’re very heavy,” he said.

“I’m strong enough,” she countered, crossing her arms over her chest. He grinned, sweet and wicked all at once.

“But we have to save your strength for later.”

His apartment wasn’t that far away, as promised, but it took them forever to get there because Jaime Lannister was so damn distracting. Every time they waited for the light, she just had to turn to him and kiss him again. She pushed him against buildings, against light poles. Who could resist it?

Brienne felt carefree, in a way she never had before. With everyone else she’d ever dated, she felt like she was trying on a persona, forcing herself to be someone she wasn’t. Or she was just constantly worried that it was going to end because something in her was going to be deficient. Her looks, or her confidence, or her sexuality or something.

But she didn’t worry about that with Jaime. Being with Jaime was like exhaling after a long day at work. It was the first bite of an ice cream sandwich on a hot day. It was her favorite flannel blanket on a cold night. 

He pulled on her hand as they walked as quickly as they could through the streets to his house, and everything in Brienne’s life felt completely right. She prayed to the gods she wasn’t sure she believed in that this could last. 

Jaime brought her to a non-descript apartment building, one of those expensive places that looked like all the others. He said hi to the security guard as he hustled her through the lobby to the elevators. Once inside, he kissed her against the mirrored wall, mumbling all sorts of dirty things that made her laugh and want in equal measure. 

“I thought you wanted to take me to dinner first,” she joked. He grazed her ear with his teeth. 

“I’ll make you dinner.” He kissed her again. “Or we might be too busy, I might have to order something.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I think I’m very hungry.” 

Brienne laughed at his corniness, and he grinned from ear to ear. The elevator opened with a ding, and he took her hand and led her out of the elevator and down the hallway. When they reached his door, he dropped all his bags and searched his pockets for his keys. Brienne didn’t make it any easier for him, wrapping her arms around his waist and kissing the back of his neck.

Eventually he was successful, and Brienne grabbed one of the bags for him as he held the door open. 

The apartment was surprisingly not that large and was mostly the same sort of bland sleekness as the rest of the building. One wall in the living room was just a huge piece of glass with a stunning view of downtown. Brienne took a second to admire it as she stripped off her coat, her hat and scarf, her gloves, her boots. 

Jaime hugged her from behind. 

“Hi,” he whispered in her ear. He sounded...unsure. It wasn’t what she’d expected and it made her more fond of him, that he was nervous about her. She turned in the circle of his arms and looped her fingers through his belt loops, drawing him a little closer. 

“I like you, Jaime,” she said. She noticed the bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. 

“I like you,” he echoed. “Do you want to see the bedroom?”

She let him lead her down the hall, into his bedroom. Brienne noticed he had a lot of pillows, and then they were both on the bed, and she only noticed Jaime, Jaime, Jaime.

They went slowly, just necking like two teenagers for what felt like an hour. There was no rush, no pressure. In between kisses, they whispered secrets, promises, hopes. Brienne got very familiar with the angles of Jaime’s jaw, the curve of his ears, the softness of his lips, and Jaime, in turn, found many of the places that made Brienne moan. By the time she took off her sweater, she felt soft and content.

Jaime’s kisses trailed down her neck, in between her breasts. 

“Take off your shirt,” she half demanded, half begged. When he sat up to fulfill her request, he reached around and unhooked her bralette, throwing it off the bed. Jaime smiled at her, and that all by itself was enough for her to melt. She laid back on his enormous pile of pillows and he followed her, covering her in a constellation of kisses as his hands traced her waist and hips. When his mouth found her nipple, she sighed in pleasure. 

“You like that?” he asked, smiling up at her with a smug look on his face.

“Yes, keep going!” she said so sharply he laughed before continuing his ministrations. Brienne writhed as Jaime moved back and forth between her brests, his hands pushing her hips into the mattress.

Suddenly, he pulled away, and Brienne wasn’t sure why until she realized he was taking off his jeans. He reached down to take off his socks, too, and when he stood up at his full height she saw the hard line of his cock pressing against his boxers. Without thinking, she licked her lips, and he grinned at her, wolfish. 

He climbed back over to her and, though his mouth and hands were very distracting, she managed to flip them around so she was on top of him. She used the chance to run her hands through his chest hair, peppering his sternum with kisses. He whined when she grazed his skin with her teeth. 

“It’s OK if you bite,” he said and Brienne liked the sound of that. She left a hickey on his neck, where she knew he’d see it the next day, and from the way he groaned she knew he wouldn’t mind. 

His thigh slipped between her legs and she thrusted against it, but the friction wasn’t enough. Brienne got up for a second to finish undressing, discarding her jeans and her underwear. 

“Don’t forget the socks,” Jaime joked, and Brienne pulled them off before joining him on the bed, straddling him once more. She leaned down to kiss him, and one of his hands went down to where she was wet and wanting. She moaned into his mouth as his fingers ghosted her seam, and she reached for him, trying to push his boxers down his legs. They both laughed as his legs got caught. 

Once Jaime was freed from his boxers, she sat back on her heels for a second, taking him in. He was beautiful, she knew this, but now he was sexy and vulnerable and debauched and all hers. It was intoxicating. 

“Come up here,” he said, putting a pillow under his head. “I want to fuck you with my mouth.” He didn’t have to tell her twice. 

She kneeled above him, and he used his hands on her thighs to help her lower down onto his mouth. She didn’t realize how wet she was until his tongue entered her, followed by two of his fingers. She moaned as he used his free hand to pull her closer. 

But Brienne was nothing if not a hard worker, and his cock was right there, hard and untouched. Supporting herself with her left hand, she leaned over and wrapped her right hand around his cock. She could feel him shudder beneath her. 

Bracing herself on the mattress with her arm, she moved forward until she could lick it from base to tip. She took him into her mouth, trying to concentrate both on Jaime’s tongue against her clit and what she was doing to him. She must have sat up too far, because Jaime’s hands came up to her thighs and pulled her back again, closer to his mouth. She tried to take him deeper into her mouth; it felt like a contest as to who could make the other come first. 

Jaime won. Brienne sat up straight as the feeling overcame her, seeing stars as Jaime’s tongue and fingers worked together to make magic. She yelled his name and thought she heard him laughing underneath her.

When she finally came down from the high of her orgasm, she moved her legs so she could see Jaime’s face again.

“How was that?” he asked, smug despite his wet face and ridiculously rumpled hair. She laid next to him and kissed him again, turned on by the taste of herself on his lips. 

“I have to finish,” she said as she reached out and took him in hand again. “I want to,” she added when she thought he would protest. Jaime laid back so she could finish her blowjob, taking her time as Jaime mumbled over and over about how good she was, how perfect and strong and sexy and wonderful. When he came, she swallowed him down, then crawled up the bed to him again. He lifted the comforter so they could cuddle underneath. The last thing Brienne remembered before she fell asleep was kissing his shoulder over and over.

— 

When Jaime woke up maybe an hour later, he was alone. A quick survey of his room told him that Brienne was still here, unless she left without her jeans. 

A moment later she walked back into the room, wearing just her sweater and her underwear. In her hands, she had two glasses of water. She leaned against the doorframe, smiling down at him.

“Hi,” he said to her, his voice unexpectedly hoarse.

“Hi,” she repeated. She handed him his glass and crawled into the bed next to him. 

“This was just what I needed,” he said after taking a big sip. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “I liked your art gallery on the fridge.” It was covered in all sorts of glittery, macaroni-filled, finger paint creations from his nieces and nephews. 

“My nieces and nephews are _very artistic,”_ he said. “I’m sure my Christmas gifts will only help expand it into a new wing of the house.” For a second, he imagined inviting her to Christmas, spending time with the kids, opening presents together, kissing in the snow. He wanted it. 

“You should get them more supplies, then,” she suggested. “Glitter can be very expensive.” That _was_ a good idea. “Let me make a note in my phone.” He got up to search for his jeans and his phone. Realizing he was naked, he also put his boxers on. He added the idea to his running Christmas note, then crawled back over to Brienne.  
“Are you hungry?” he asked, putting his arm around her shoulder. She cuddled into his chest, just like he wanted her to. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. They looked through delivery places on his phone before settling on pizza. He put his phone to the side and kissed her again. 

“I’m so glad we ran into each other,” he whispered against her jaw. “And I’m so glad you said yes.” 

“Me too,” she whispered back, answering his kisses with her own. 

They stayed like that until the pizza came, peppering their conversation with kisses and gentle touches. They made up for lost time, swapping stories back and forth. Brienne told Jaime about her dad teaching her and her brother how to swim in the ocean when they still lived on Tarth. Jaime told her about how he taught Tyrion to cliff dive and Cersei screamed at him for two days for risking their lives for a thrill. Brienne told him about the time she, at 8 years old, ran away from home for three hours, “fending for herself” in the forest until she got hungry. Jaime told her about how Cersei taught him to paint her nails and he made extra money in college by doing it for all the girls in his dorm.

Jaime put on a shirt for the benefit of the pizza man, and Brienne greatly enjoyed taking it off again when they were done eating. Jaime realized, later, that she was the first person he had sex on his couch with, and he very quietly hoped that there wouldn’t be anyone else.

They stayed up very late taking the time to get to know each other. And in the morning, Jaime ordered them breakfast sandwiches from the café down the street. 

On Christmas morning, he gave her a ballerina ornament he’d gone back and bought for her.

A year later, she put it on the tree they shared together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u thank u to the organizers and everyone who gave this a read!! unadulteratedkr, i hope you liked!!

**Author's Note:**

> the three prompts:  
> 1\. something inspired by the song Running Up That Hill  
> 2\. Jaime and Brienne meet during jury duty AU  
> 3\. Something inspired by the poem "Night" by Louise Bogan


End file.
